


Well Kept

by coloredink



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gift Giving, Sexual Tension, Sugar Mama Phryne Fisher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 09:15:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13338132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coloredink/pseuds/coloredink
Summary: "Just a little something, a token of my appreciation for all your hard work," Miss Fisher chirped, already halfway out of his office."But--""Goodbye, Inspector!" She wiggled her fingers at him and was gone.





	Well Kept

Miss Fisher swept into his office and said "Hold out your hand, Inspector" while she perched herself on the edge of his desk, all in one fluid motion. 

Jack sighed, looked up at her with what he hoped was more suffering than affection, and held out his hand. He didn't know what he was expecting--he'd learned that Miss Fisher existed to defy expectations--but he was nonetheless surprised by the small box she pressed into his palm. Jack frowned down at the box and then up at Miss Fisher, who was already getting up. "What's this?" he asked, and he couldn't help it if he sounded suspicious, could he? It _was_ Miss Fisher, after all.

"Just a little something, a token of my appreciation for all your hard work," Miss Fisher chirped, already halfway out of his office.

"But--"

"Goodbye, Inspector!" She wiggled her fingers at him and was gone.

Jack looked down at the box. It was the sort jewelry came in. He opened it with a sense of mounting dread and was almost relieved to see that it was nothing more than a tie clip. And a very plain sort of tie clip, at that, given Miss Fisher's obvious tendency toward the ostentatious: just a plain silver bar, with some straight lines etched around the edges to give it some texture. It would look good with any number of Jack's ties, though he hadn't habitually worn a tie clip since before the War.

Well, it might come in handy sometime. Jack tucked the box into his top desk drawer and got back to work.

***

"She's in the parlor, sir," Mr. Butler said as he took Jack's hat and coat with the terrifying invisible efficiency of the well trained servant. He'd used to announce Jack's presence as "Detective Robinson" or more recently "the Inspector," but Jack was evidently expected and required no announcement these days; he saw himself into the parlor, where Miss Fisher was sitting on the chaise with her feet up on the cushions and a glass in her hand.

"Jack!" she trilled, as if his presence was a welcome surprise while also warmly expected. She held up her glass; when Jack nodded, she poured him one from the decanter on the side table. Jack took it from her and, because he dared not join her on the chaise, took up his customary place at the mantelpiece. 

Miss Fisher rose to her feet without so much as causing a ripple in her drink and joined him there. "I have something for you," she said, and she slid something off the mantelpiece that Jack hadn't noticed was there. It was another small box, much like the one his tie clip had come in.

"Oh, that's not," Jack said, even as Miss Fisher picked up his hand that wasn't holding the glass and placed the box in it.

Miss Fisher leaned forward, close enough that Jack was beginning to feel a bit lightheaded. "If it bothers you, I'll say that this is a gift for myself as well."

She withdrew, thank God, to resettle herself on the chaise, drawing her knees up toward her chest in a very girlish gesture. Jack remained leaning against the mantel, where it seemed safest, and placed his glass atop it so that he could open his gift.

It was a pair of cufflinks. Like the tie clip, they were rather plain: round and silver, with alternating straight and wavy lines engraved into the surface. It was possible they were part of a set. He gave Miss Fisher a narrow-eyed look; she just smiled back at him. "I fail to see how this is a gift for yourself," he said.

"I was hoping that you would accompany to the theatre this upcoming season," said Miss Fisher, after a delicate sip of her drink. "Not operetta, don't worry. Shakespeare." She let the last word roll off her tongue.

"And what has that to do with cufflinks?" Jack said, more sharply than he felt.

"Well, you'll need to wear a tuxedo, Jack," said Miss Fisher, her eyes large and round. "And you'll need cufflinks to go with it."

"I have a pair of cufflinks," Jack pointed out. "I have several, in fact. I need them for my cuffs."

"Yes, but not _these_ cufflinks," Miss Fisher said; her smile had turned coquettish. Jack tried to ignore the way his stomach flipped at the sight. "Do stop being difficult, Jack, and say thank you."

"Thank you," Jack said, and he put the cufflinks in his pocket.

***

He wore the cufflinks, of course, when he accompanied Miss Fisher to the theatre, where they were staging _As You Like It_. He suspected Miss Fisher, who hadn't taken anything seriously since 1918, preferred the comedies to the tragedies. (But he preferred the comedies as well; he'd had enough of tragedy for a lifetime.)

The cufflinks did not escape Miss Fisher's notice; he saw her eyes dart to his sleeves and then up again with a satisfied smile. Jack offered her his arm; she took it; they entered the theatre together. Naturally, Miss Fisher recognized--or was recognized by--a half dozen people scarcely three feet in the door, and Jack had to muster a smile while she introduced him to all and sundry as "Detective Inspector Jack Robinson" or "my investigative partner, DI Jack Robinson" and spent the next two or three minutes chatting politely before exclaiming, "Oh, but you'll be wanting a drink, won't you, Jack darling?" or "but I daresay I don't want Jack to suffer any longer--war wound, you know--and we must really be finding our seats" and pulling away.

After this happened the third time, Jack murmured, "I'm beginning to think you brought me along to escape unpleasant conversations."

"Jack, whyever would you think such a thing?" Miss Fisher exclaimed with wide, fluttering eyes.

"I am a detective," Jack reminded her, and Miss Fisher laughed and tugged him closer to her, so that he could feel her warmth pressed up all along his side.

"I'm to get nothing past you, I see," she said smugly. 

"I'm sure it's a passing condition," Jack replied.

"Well, I do have one surprise for you this evening," Miss Fisher declared as they darted up the stairs to their box--her box. Of course Miss Fisher had her own private box. Once they were inside, Miss Fisher turned to him with a laughing smile on her face and reached below her skirt.

"Miss Fisher!" Jack exclaimed as Miss Fisher withdrew...a small, flat box.

"Why, what were you expecting?" Miss Fisher said, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

"Erm," Jack said. The box was still warm from her skin. He opened it, vaguely proud that his hands didn't shake. It was a watch. 

As watches went, it was not that different from his current watch. A great deal less shabby, certainly, with a slightly wider band of black leather rather than brown, and delicate numbers painted around the edge of a round face. It was already wound to the correct time. Jack was quite certain it had been horribly expensive.

"Self-winding," Miss Fisher said with a small smile.

"Thank you," Jack said helplessly. "Why?"

"Do I need a reason why?" Miss Fisher answered, and no, of course not, she never needed a reason why. "But if you must know, I couldn't abide the thought of you wearing your old watch with this tuxedo. A brown watch band with black tie! It won't do, Jack."

And of course Jack hadn't worn his watch tonight for just this reason. Some men had more than one watch for this purpose, he knew, but Jack had never seen the need. He thought about the people that Miss Fisher had just been introducing him to. What did they see, when they looked at him standing next to the Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher? Did they notice the cufflinks? Would they notice the watch? Were they too expensive for someone of his station? (The watch almost certainly was.) There would probably be photos of them on the society page tomorrow, and Miss Fisher would see them.

He swallowed and fastened the watch around his wrist. 

"Excellent," Miss Fisher said in a tone of smug satisfaction. "I knew it would look splendid on you."

***

"That's a rather nice watch, sir," Collins remarked. "Is it new?"

"Mmm?" Jack glanced down at his wrist before turning a page in the arrest log. "Yes, it was a gift." He'd hesitated before putting it on this morning. But it _was_ a very nice watch, and easier to read than his other one.

"That's a wonderful gift, sir," said Collins. "Is it from Miss Fisher?" He took a half step back, his affable smile falling from his face, when Jack looked up at him slowly. 

"It's only--begging your pardon, sir--I heard some of the other men mention that Miss Fisher is very generous toward you. Sir."

Gossiping about how Jack was taking bribes, more likely, or that he was a kept detective; Collins, bless him, was too naive to know that those words hadn't been spoken in approbation. But it was good information to have, and Jack tucked it away to do something about later.

"She _is_ very generous, isn't she, sir?" Collins rambled on. "The way she took in Dottie, when she was suspected of that murder...and Jane and those other girls as well...she helped that girl at the medical college...and she brings us food at the station all the time, doesn't she?"

"Yes." Jack shut the arrest log, which he by now had stopped reading; he couldn't remember what he'd been looking for in the first place. "Yes, she's very generous toward her friends."

Jack went back into his office and sat down. He looked down at the wristwatch. He thought about the cufflinks at home, the hat currently hanging from the stand, the tie clip still in the top drawer of his desk. 

Miss Fisher was generous with all her friends. She had maids and street urchins in for dinner as often as she had friends and lovers for drinks; she risked her life for people she barely knew. Perhaps these gifts really were nothing more than tokens of appreciation. A woman as wealthy as she was could afford to dole them out like sweets, and just as thoughtlessly.

Jack opened his drawer and brought out the tie clip. No; Miss Fisher was many things, but she was not thoughtless. He unbuttoned his waistcoat just enough to put on the tie clip, then buttoned it up again. Ridiculous; no one would even see it. But he liked that, for some reason.

***

Jack knew what it was as soon as he saw the shape of the box. "Oh, no," he said, rising up from behind his desk.

Miss Fisher stopped him by _actually placing her finger on his lips_. Jack wasn't sure if it was outrage or something else that silenced him. "Please, Jack," she said, and her voice and gaze were both tender.

Jack swallowed as Miss Fisher set the box down on his desk. "Well," he said as he lifted off the top, "you _did_ crease the last one."

Her other gifts had been subdued, by Miss Fisher's standards, more to Jack's taste or perhaps Miss Fisher's ideas of Jack's taste. But this was a bold tie for Jack, dark blue and silver all swirled together with red accents. Not so outrageous that Jack would never wear it, but more certain to draw the eye than his usual choices.

Miss Fisher perched on the edge of his desk. "Well?" she said. "Shall we try it on?"

Jack looked up. "Now?"

"No time like the present," she said crisply, and indeed she already had her fingers in the knot of Jack's tie, a relatively sober dark blue affair. Jack felt surrounded by her heat, her perfume, her tenacious will. His fingers twitched atop his desk. Dear God, was his office door still open? He couldn't see past her.

"Miss Fisher," Jack said, unable to force the words out past a hoarse whisper. He made the mistake of looking up, and Miss Fisher's unperturbed gaze pinned him like a rabbit under a hawk. "People are beginning to talk."

"Oh really?" she said, pulling Jack's tie out of his collar in a slow slither. "What are they saying?"

Jack couldn't look away. "That I'm a kept man."

Miss Fisher smiled as she fished the tie out of the box and looped it around Jack's neck. "And are you?"

Jack's mouth was dry. "If you'll keep me."

Miss Fisher's smile was wide and inviting as she started to fasten Jack's tie. He could feel her fingers through the cloth of his collar. "Come to dinner tomorrow night, Jack, and we'll see."

***

Jack wore the tie clip, the hat, the cufflinks, the watch, the tie. He thought that everyone he passed must know that Miss Fisher had bought him these things. Good Lord, the men at the station were right--he _was_ her pet policeman, wasn't he? He tugged the brim of his hat a little lower over his face on his way to the car.

"Evening, Inspector," said Mr. Butler, smiling, as he took Jack's coat and hat; Jack was almost a little sorry to relinquish the hat. But then Miss Fisher was there, taking Jack by the arm and leading him into the dining room with a gay laugh, and Jack couldn't mind anything very much.

"You look divine," Miss Fisher said with a close-lipped, narrow-eyed smile, and Jack knew exactly what she meant.

"All thanks to you, Miss Fisher," Jack said in a low voice, and watched as Miss Fisher's eyes widened in approval. Her smile widened, too.

He wasn't at all sure how he was going to make it through dinner, but he did. In fact, dinner was a lovely affair: Mr. Butler had made all of Jack's favorites, and Miss Fisher was even more scintillating than usual. Jack found himself smiling often and even laughing once or twice. Effervescent joy bubbled up in his wrists and his collarbones. He felt like a boy again.

"I have another gift for you," Miss Fisher said, once they'd retired to the parlor for after-dinner drinks.

"Oh, no," Jack said, half-heartedly.

This one, too, had been waiting on the mantelpiece for him. It was another jewelry box, like the tie clip. But it was not a tie clip but a collar pin, gold with a small, discreet blue gem on both ends. Jack swallowed hard.

"I, ah," Jack cleared his throat and tried again, "I don't...I don't have the appropriate sort of collar, I'm afraid." He looked up at Miss Fisher with something almost like fear in his heart. It was not an excuse; he wanted to accept the gift. But it was the sort of pin that necessitated a hole in either side of the collar for the bar to go through and fasten, and none of his shirts had that.

Miss Fisher, sitting in one of the chairs with her legs crossed demurely over one another, only smiled in her particularly feline way. "Well then, it's a good thing I also procured you a shirt."

Jack stared. He was distantly aware of his heart beginning to rabbit.

"The shirt is the real gift, as a matter of fact," Miss Fisher went on. She drained her glass and set it on the end table. "It's silk, very fine. But a silk shirt collar needs a pin." She nodded toward the box in Jack's hand. "This is just an incidental."

Jack licked his lips. "Thank you, Miss Fisher," he said carefully.

Miss Fisher smiled. It was a dangerous smile. "You're welcome. Now, won't you come try on your shirt? We must be sure it fits."

END.

**Author's Note:**

>  [coloredink.tumblr.com](http://coloredink.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  [sumiwrites.wordpress.com](http://sumiwrites.wordpress.com/) (if you wanna see/buy my books)


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